


Liability

by Evenbechbaesheim



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Deception, Espionage, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Lies, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Spy!AU, risk, working together, y'all wanted a twist hey?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenbechbaesheim/pseuds/Evenbechbaesheim
Summary: From the moment he’d become self-aware, Even had always known he was just a little bit different from the other kids.He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what ‘it’ was about him in particular, he just knew that he viewed the world in a completely different way than other people. He felt things more so than the other kids. When he was happy- he was elated. When he was sad, it was like utter devastation, eating away at his insides./Even's a spy. It's pretty much the only life he's ever known, and he's learnt the hard way time and time again that spies and civilian's hearts don't mix. It's far too dangerous, getting close to people who aren't already in the life. Even can't bring himself to expose people to danger who don't deserve it.There are rules. Don't fuck with civilians. Don't bring them into areas where sensitive information or weapons are present. Don't use your real name. Don't use your real number. Don't-and this is the important one- get attached. Let go. Walk away.Don't ever look back.But then he meets Isak in a bar, andfuck, it's getting harder and harder to remember those rules.





	1. Chapter 1

 

From the moment he’d become self-aware, Even always knew he was just a little bit different from the other kids.

He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what ‘it’ was about him in particular, he just knew that he viewed the world in a completely different way than other people. He _felt_ things more so than the other kids. When he was happy- he was _elated_. When he was sad, it was like utter devastation, eating away at his insides.

There was also another factor playing into his theory. Even didn’t grow up the same way the other kids in his elementary class did. His parents worked high-profile jobs in the city, meaning they couldn’t always make it to class presentations and parent-teacher conferences. Even knew this didn’t mean they loved him any less- they showered him with love and attention whenever possible, but it was still a little disheartening to always be the child looking out into the audience and spotting only an empty chair amongst a sea of smiling faces.

He knew his parents couldn’t help it. They explained to him as gently and as best they could that the calibre of their jobs meant they worked long and often unpredictable hours, unlike the other parents at school. Both were prone to taking off on business trips at the drop of a hat- Even grew accustom pretty quickly to coming home and only finding one parent or the other, or, occasionally, his dad’s best friend (and his favourite pseudo-uncle, Thor) who would kneel down to his height and ruffle his hair and explain how _mamma_ and _pappa_ had gone away for a few days, maybe a week, but until then they could hang out and each as much ice cream as they wanted.

Even knew his parents loved him. He knew that his family life was a little different to the other ‘normal’ children. He knew his brain didn’t quite work the same as everyone else’s. But, from an early age, he figured that these were simply facts of _life_ , and he’d just have to get on with it. He wasn’t unhappy. He wasn’t neglected or lonely. Even was the kind of child who often found joy in solitude- happy to play by himself for hours on end. It also didn’t help that their family moved around the country a lot, so the friends he did make, often didn’t stick around for very long. It wasn’t normal to other people- but to the Bech Næsheim family, it _was_ their normal.

Even’s ‘normal’ life was turned completely on its head, forty-eight days after his twelfth birthday.

He walked home now- _pappa_ had said he was big enough to keep an eye out for himself, and _mamma_ had always taught him how to defend himself with simple enough fighting moves that she made him promise to never use on any other kids unless it was an emergency. _Pappa_ also had insisted he take karate from the age of four, which he enjoyed, along with the extra-curricular French, English, German and Russian lessons he took outside of school. Even had never complained about the workload- he loved knowledge and his parents had always told him he had a brain like a sponge. He excelled in school at math and science- but he also had a way with words, was good at crafting poetry and stories and painting beautiful portraits and taking photos. His parents were proud of him for being so multi-talented. So, _pappa_ decided, he was responsible enough to walk to and from school on his own.

When Even made it home, his entire existence was suddenly placed at a proverbial crossroads.

Mamma and Pappa were home, which was strange. He could see both their cars, abandoned in the road just outside home, doors open, engines still running, hot black skid-marks staining the private road. They didn’t have neighbours- living at the bottom of a hill in a small, lonely little gated patch of land faraway from all the other residential areas. The front door was swinging, still open, hinges busted in and scratch marks in the wood. Even immediately felt uneasy, taking short, deliberately silent steps into the house, looking around for- well- he wasn’t sure _what_ , but he knew for certain that something was inside that probably shouldn’t have been.

He took a left, turning into the main room. This was the seventh house they’d lived in, and so far, Even quite liked it. The main room was large- rich red curtains hanging over the giant windows, sleek cream carpet that _mamma_ didn’t dare let anyone touch with shoes on. Only today, there were thick black boot prints strewn across the floor. There were drops of red liquid splattered in random puddles, staining their matching cream sofa set.

Even lifted his eyes from the floor and froze. Pappa was standing with his back to the chimney breast, a man Even had never seen before held close to his chest. Mamma was stood in front of them with a knife in her hand, pressing it to the stranger’s jaw. They were both dressed in formal clothing- mamma in a long, blue gown and pappa in a tuxedo that had probably once been quite pristine, but was now stained red where a wound at his side was bleeding. The man he was holding by the neck in a death-tight lock was panting, eyes wide as he noticed Even in the doorway watching. He squirmed away from mamma’s blade and Even held his breath as slowly, both his parent’s eyes swivelled over to meet his.

And that was how Even learnt that his parents were _not_ exactly what they’d lead him to believe they were. They were fucking _spies_.

“We were waiting until you were thirteen.” Pappa explained afterwards, once the ‘mess’ had been taken care of, strange people in white forensic suits showing up at their door and sealing off the main room to work as pappa laid out on the sofa in their dining room, mamma crouched on the floor, stitching him up with practised ease. “We didn’t want you to be exposed to any of this before you were ready.”

Even, quite rightfully, had a lot of questions. He could feel them, buzzing around in his brain like a swarm of startled bees. He wasn’t sure where to start. What was the appropriate reaction to finding out that your parents worked as intelligence agents for the government- not the hum-drum busy business folk they said they were? There wasn’t exactly a handbook for this. Even was surprised at just how calm he felt given the very nature of the situation he’d walked in on.

“From now on, no secrets.” Mamma promised him, cutting the stitches with surgical scissors and wiping away the excess blood with an antiseptic wipe. Even stared at pappa’s face. He hadn’t even flinched. The skin of his torso was littered with healed scars. How had Even not noticed this before? He supposed he’d never looked at his father shirtless. They didn’t exactly _swim_.

“Do we have to go away again?” Even asked, grabbing onto the first cohesive thought he could find in the wrangling storm his brain had turned into. His parents shared a look. Eventually, pappa nodded.

“It would probably be for the best.”

“Right.” Even bit his lip. That one was fairly obvious. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever be able to face the neighbours the same way after what they’d witnessed. He wasn’t sure what to ask next- but Even had found out the hard way that both his brain and mouth had a sort of irritating tendency run on their own volition, hardly waiting for his permission or input.

 “Am I going to be a spy?” he blurted out. Mamma and pappa shared _another_ tense look.

“Not if you don’t want to be.” Mamma eventually said, taking one of his hands in both her own, holding on tightly.

“There is a school.” Pappa continued. “You start when you’re thirteen. You learn everything you need to learn to be a spy. You learn how to be the best. It’s the same place that I went to school, and mamma went to the girl’s school. Then you’re selected for agencies when you turn eighteen and graduate.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to Ev,” Mamma was quick to jump in, biting her lip and looking up at him with anxious eyes. “We are your parents, so I’m very sorry, but you will always be exposed to this life. We understand if you want no part in it. But if you were interested-”

“-I’ll do it.” Even said. He was only twelve, but he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. “I want to learn… well, _everything_. And then… afterwards… if I decide to go and be a boring accountant or a director or anything else… at least I had the option. Right?”

Neither parent could argue with that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even graduated from the _Etterretningstjenesten Institute of Excellence for Boys_ with near-enough perfect grades. It didn’t take long after graduation for him, and a few of his friends to be selected for trials at _Elvebakken,_ one of the two biggest independent intelligence agencies in Oslo. He wasn’t surprised. This was the path that was laid out for him from the moment he’d walked home and found his parents mid-combat with a Russian spy looking to steal government secrets from their happy little country. This was the path that was laid out from him from the day he was born to two parents who also happened to be spies. And why were they spies? Because their parents had been spies too, and so had their parents before them.

Intelligence agencies are more of a family business than people often think. The pitfall with the job is that it becomes a lifestyle. You live and breathe covert operations. Every step is danger. Every move is a calculated risk. Even supposed that the biggest benefit of attending a giant school where every other person you meet has the same family background and the same intentions in life is that you’re all sort of in the same boat, along for the same ride down the white-water rapids. Also, it stops you from having the chance to put _actual_ people, _real_ people at risk of danger for the sake of intimacy. Spies can’t have regular friends, or girlfriends, or husbands or children _and_ keep them separate from work. The moment you establish a connection with someone- the rest of their life becomes a fixed point. They will always be a known face to intelligence agencies worldwide. There will always be a target on their back.

Even learnt this the hard way, when in his final year of school he had a manic episode and put his very-much-civilian girlfriend, Sonja (who thought that _Etterretningstjenesten_ was just a fancy rich-kid school sponsored by their government) in danger. She didn’t know she was in danger, and thankfully, nobody got hurt, but it didn’t change the truth. The very frightening reality dawned on Even that day. He couldn’t trust himself with other people’s lives. More so even than the other spies he knew- having the added baggage of being bipolar meant that he would never, ever get involved in a civilian’s life again. It just wasn’t worth the risk of losing someone he loved. He’d already lost Sonja. Even wasn’t sure he could take that feeling again.

But then, every once in a while, he dips his toe into the water and hopes the ripples don’t start a tidal wave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This boy is beautiful.

Even is a big appreciator of the beautiful things in life. He still, despite focusing his energy on other things, loves film and art and poetry. Visual stimulation is just the sexiest thing ever for some reason- he thinks people look better with their clothes on and colour distorting around them- and this doesn’t change wither he’s manic or not. This boy, sitting across the bar with a beer in his hand and a somewhat downtrodden expression on his perfect, angelic face, is fucking _beautiful_ and he’s sort of taking Even’s breath away. His hair is bright blonde and bouncy, curls framing his perfect face- an upturned, marvellous slope of a nose and small, pert cupids-bow lip. It’s warm inside, but his cheeks are still a little flushed from the cold. He’s wearing a grey shirt, pressed trousers, but then- switching up the ensemble- black vans. He plays with his phone, turning it over a few times, eyes scanning the screen for texts that aren’t there, before signing, putting it down and sipping at his beer, waiting a few minutes and starts the whole charade again.

And boy- Even _thinks_ that he’s sold already. He thinks that is enough to entrance him completely- but then- but _then_ , he sees the boy’s eyes when they flit up and meet his own across the room.

Rich green, sprinkled with flecks of gold and brown which look like dripping honey, sparkling in his gaze. He has thick, dark eyelashes, fanning out as he blinks, confused, as if to say _are you really looking at me?_

 _Of course I’m looking at you_ , Even thinks. _You’re fucking beautiful._

Even isn’t sure what it is about civilians, but there is something usually so bland about the way they taste. There is a dullness in their eyes that comes from never having seen bloodshed, dashing heroes, corrupting villains. Their idea of excitement is a new series of _Big_ _Brother_ , a new flavour of ice cream at _McDonalds_ , or an evening in a shitty dive bar just like this one. Maybe it’s just been a while since he saw anyone worth looking twice at- but Even feels, immediately, from the moment he locks eyes with this boy across the wooden-top polished bar that he is different from any civilian Even’s ever seen before. It’s all in his eyes. They’re heavy with history, and Even wants to leaf through every chapter of his story.

For a few long seconds as they remain locked in eye contact, Even (almost) completely forgets why he’s even there.

A spy’s brain never turns off. It falters, occasionally, such as times like these: you’re locked in a staring match across a bar from an honest-to-God angel, your brain is as interested as your dick and you think you might be a little bit in love-  but it never totally shuts down. Even when Even’s sleeping, his body is on alert, knife underneath his pillow, handgun strapped to his mattress, ready to drop everything and fight for his life at a moment’s notice. That’s just the way he’s been brought up. That is the way he will always be.

Due to this- he spots the exact moment his target re-appears from the bathroom and settles down at a small table with her own decoy friends, tucking back a strand of hair behind her ear from the jet black wig that sits atop her head, taking a sip of her overpriced drink. Thankfully, he’s only doing recon today. He’s just supposed to watch, keep track of her moves, and let Elias know when she leaves the bar. After that- the evening is his to do with as he pleases.

It just so happens, also, conveniently enough, that Even has no self-control. He’s devastatingly impulsive and always has been- both using it at his greatest aid and worst flaw in working jobs. Sometimes risks pay off. Sometimes, they don’t.

These are lessons that always must be learnt the hard way.

He slides over, taking a seat next to the boy but keeping himself angled towards his target so every time he looks over the top of his beer, he spots her, itching her scalp with a long red fingernail or stirring her martini. She isn’t doing anything particularly suspicious or interesting, so instead he diverts at least seventy percent of his attention to the person beside him, putting forward his (hopefully) most attractive smile whilst simultaneously trapping him in what Mikael has called his ‘intensely sexy bedroom eyes’.

“Come here often?”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s worth the internal cringe to watch the boy’s pretty green eyes light up with a short, amused laugh.

“Not really.” He replies. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a first date but…” he trails off, eyes fixed on his phone, hands absentmindedly tugging his shirt sleeves down and hiding inside. “… I think I got stood up.”

“Stood up?” Even repeats, genuinely dumbfounded, a hand pressed into his chest. “Stood _up_? You? Someone stood _you_ up?”

The boy’s eyes sparkle as he tips his bottle, downing the last swig of his beer. Even tries not to stare too intensely at the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“Yeah.” He eventually replies, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. When his lips part, Even can feel a mild cardiac event rippling underneath his chest. All he can think of is those perfect, sinful, upturned lips parted for an array of other, less appropriate reasons. He looks up at Even, notices his staring, and smiles a small, shy, half-smile. “I guess I wasn’t his type.” He says, looking down at the bar so his eyelashes fan out around the top of his cheeks- and _fuck_ , the confirmation of his attraction to men (and hopefully, him) is just the nail in Even’s fucking coffin. From this point on- he’d let this boy do anything. He’ll be tied to a bed and spat on from across the room if that’s what gets him going. He’ll lick the underside of his palm and beg for a treat- it doesn’t matter. He’s completely gone, and they’ve only exchanged four sentences.

“He must be insane.” He says, trying to regain his composure and present himself with at least a speck of smoothness. “Look at you. You’re beautiful. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Isak.” He says, a little too quickly. Eager. Cheeks flush when he _notices_ his own eagerness. Shy. Even grins.

“Hi Isak. I’m Even. I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but you don’t happen to have any other plans tonight?”

Isak (and _yeah_ , Even kind of wants to scream at how perfectly his pretty little name fits his pretty little face) gives a lewd, enticing smirk in reply, eyes glistening and skin flushed and hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I think I do, now.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It only takes an hour for Even’s target to leave the bar. The whole hour has consisted of him, perched on the edge of his barstool, leg shaking agitatedly, fingers gripped tightly around his second beer as he sips and sips and does his best not to make it obvious that he’s both very irritated and desperately horny. Isak wasn’t helping- innocent enough small talk laced with heated looks and lip biting and his pink little tongue, peaking out from between his lips every so often as his eyes flicked down from Even’s face to the rest of his body. _Fuck_ , Even’s been taking in every inch of his face for the last hour, and it hasn’t gotten worse. If anything, he looks even more fucking delectable than he did when they first laid eyes on each other.

So yeah, he might be a little overzealous when the target finally leaves, whipping out his phone to text Elias and call a cab before clumsily grabbing Isak by the hand, throwing whatever money is in his pocket down onto the bar and hoping that covers the tab. Isak seems enthralled by his urgency, laughing and allowing himself to be pulled along and bundled into the back of an _Uber_ as Even asks the driver to step on it. They’ve got _big plans_.

“You’re a little keen.” Isak mumbles with an unmissable smile against his lips as soon as Even yanks him from the cab, straight into a blistering, searing kiss. Unsurprisingly, their mouths slot together like God made them to fit, and he can’t get enough, grabbing Isak in handfuls, pressing them together as close as possible.

“You love it.” he replies, and Isak nods because he _does_ , hands wrapped around the back of his shoulders, interlocked behind his neck. They’re still on the street outside his apartment-of-the week, filled with all the classified documents he brought along with him for the job. He’s sworn more than once- to himself and his friends and their bosses-  he’d never take any of his civilian one-night-stands into any location where case-sensitive information is present. Hook-ups are reserved to the confines of safe, clean hotels and quaint bed and breakfasts where he can smile and lie and pretend he’s staying in town on _business_ before taking off the next morning and leaving his conquest with enough cash for a room service meal and a cab home. Unfortunately, in this case, there’s just something so different and fleeting about Isak that stops him from thinking rationally, and Even realises just a little bit too late that he hadn’t blinked twice before punching in the address on his Uber request and secondly, that he _didn’t give a fuck_.

They run up the stairs like excitable children, both laughing and shushing each other as they stumble into Even’s apartment, fumbling with the key in the lock like a teenager about to get his first _tit_. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Isak has melted his _so_ ultra-suave persona, but Even doesn’t have time to compose himself before Isak is on him, kicking the door shut behind them and pushing his tongue into Even’s mouth.

From there, it’s easy.

Isak’s body moulds against his like he’s made entirely of liquid. He’s completely pliant to every touch of Even’s hands and lips and body, bends any way Even turns him, keening and moaning with his pretty eyes squeezed shut the entire time. It’s the closest thing Even’s ever had to a fucking spiritual experience- and he stopped believing in God a long time ago.

It’s more than just a _fuck_. He and Isak go at it for a time undetermined, short breaks in between rounds where they lay side by side, catching their breaths whilst staring at each other before breaking into short, breathy giggles. Even then- Even still can’t get enough of him. He wants Isak in every way, every position, on the bed, on the floor, against the wall. It’s like a _drug_ \- one hit and he’s fucking addicted- which makes the whole distant, faraway thought of leaving him in the morning just that little bit painful. Because every time he looks over at Isak laid beside him and the two lock eyes, there’s just that little glint of affection lingering. Afterwards, when Isak makes himself comfortable in the centre of Even’s chest, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, his heart breaks just a little bit. He puts a hand in Isak’s hair and strokes it gently, before dropping a kiss too his sweaty brow. He knows how this works. He doesn’t exactly have a choice- he has to leave in the morning. This apartment isn’t even _his_ \- and he needs to report back to HQ with the intel he’s collected from his week of work. Then- his pay check gets wired into his account and he gets a shot at some well-deserved time off.

 

 

 

_(Do you think, in another universe, there’s another Isak and Even, laid exactly like this?_

_Yeah. I hope they all are.)_

 

 

There’s no logical way to explain anything to Isak. No- instead, Even has to lie. Because lying is what he does for a living and Isak is no different from any of the civilians he uses out of convenience for his own benefit or persona satisfaction, whether it’s done in the confines of a job or not. It doesn’t matter how passionately he talks about parallel universes with love in his eyes or how electric his fingers feel, dragging across the dot-to-dot constellations of Even’s speckled skin or even the softness in his voice when he tells Even- whispers into the skin beside his ear that he’s _never quite felt like this before_ , and Even _doesn’t_ lie- he says it back, because he’s suddenly so fucking helpless and Isak’s drained every ounce of self-control and will-power he’s got and still has the nerve to ask for more. These things don’t matter- and neither do the hundreds and thousands of other Isak’s and Even’s, in all the infinite schisms of the universe, laid out side by side in exactly the same way.

Isak is a civilian. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It’s just a little hard to remember that when Isak, fast asleep, drools a little onto his skin and it’s kind of the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even’s not heartless enough to leave without saying a word- when his alarm rings at six am sharp and thankfully, Isak doesn’t stir when he slips out of the bed- he grabs a pen and paper off of the nightstand and scribbles a quick drawing ( _at the same time in a different universe)_ of himself and Isak, laid out in bed, seeing the morning in together. Sadness and guilt bite at the back of his throat as he realises, maybe just a second too late, that he really _isn’t_ going to see Isak again. He can’t leave his number or his Instagram or fucking e-mail. Spies aren’t allowed to just _do_ those kind of things without hours of paperwork and clearance levels and protocol. Even can’t believe he’d even been stupid enough to tell Isak his real name.

(Not that he regrets it. The sound of Isak screaming it into the mattress will play on loop in his head for the rest of his days, and hopefully, will be recreated in his well fucking deserved afterlife.)

Even packs his things in deathly silence. He tucks the note underneath the pillow Isak is now sleeping on because his bare chest is no longer available. Then, he takes one more longing look at the boy sprawled out in his bed, before turning his back and walking forwards, never looking back- because _that’s what spies do_. They _leave_ , and they don’t leave anything traceable behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fucking hell- did you get attacked by a swarm of covert leeches?” Mikael teases, brushing the tip of his finger against the red mark, still lingering from his encounter with Isak, only a few nights ago. Even can’t really hide the smug, half-smile, even if it is slightly bitter to the taste. He’s actually been doing quite a good job of _not_ thinking about Isak over the past few days as he settles into a nice, easy-going vacation from work. Of course, he can’t keep his mind from wandering as he blissfully dreams of pretty cupids-bow-lips or glowing green eyes, nor can he keep his hands off himself every time he gets in the shower, picturing the soft velvety feel of Isak’s wet, open mouth-

But this is the first time he’s let himself think about Isak when _not_ alone, where it isn’t appropriate to pop a boner. He clears his throat as Michael stares, dumbfounded and simultaneously elated, before he reaches over to grab Elias’ shoulders, shaking them excitedly.

“Are you hearing this Bakkoush? Our boy got laid.”

“About time.” Elias scoffs, half-listening, half-rifling through the latest mission sent through his door in a wax sealed envelope. Even’s thankful not to have seen one of those in a while. The only missions delivered by hand are the _really_ serious ones. Everything else- a heavily coded email usually suffices. “You were seriously frustrated for a while there.”

“How long was this latest dry streak?” Mikael ponders aloud, reaching forwards to prod at the love-bite Isak left him again before Even slaps his hand away, leaning away from his reach with a glare.

“Ooh, too long, apparently. Touchy subject?”

“It was just a one-night thing. No big deal.” Even’s voice is flat- and he usually credits himself on being a pretty fucking good liar, seeing as it’s literally his job. Sadly, Miakel and Elias have known him since school. Elias has personally beat some of his more obvious tells out of him in interrogation training. It just so happens that Mikael _reads people_ , and Mikael see through his lies with a fucking blindfold on (and he has done so, several times).

“Oh shit- you found someone you _liked_ , didn’t you?” he asks, soft brown eyes sparkling with dangerous excitement. Even Elias, the workaholic he is, stops reading and looks up from his paperwork, frowning slightly. “Even!” Mikael gasps. “Tell us everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Even shakes his head, but his face betrays him. The slow spreading smirk grows to a full smile and now, even _Elias_ is staring, dark eyes sparkling excitedly. Even sighs. He should know better than trying to lie to the only two other people in the universe better at it than himself. “Okay, fine. You got me. His name is Isak and he’s fucking beautiful. And smart. And funny and- well, I met him in a bar and then one thing led to another and we ended up back at the apartment I was staying in-”

“-you took him back to your safehouse?” Elias’ expression flattens. Even bites his lip before nodding, guilty. Elias huffs. “Even, you know that’s against like- every protocol in the fucking book.”

“I couldn’t help it!” he flops back against his bed, which he and Mikael are sitting on as Elias spins in the desk chair, throwing an arm over his eyes in attempt to hide his very telling expression. “Fucking hell, guys, he was _everything_. I don’t think I’ve ever clicked with someone so quickly. I couldn’t think. There wasn’t time. We were too busy getting lost in each other to care about fucking _protocols_.”

“Jesus, Even.” Mikael says, biting his lip a little anxiously, staring down at him. For once, he doesn’t make a snarky comment about Even’s romanticism. “I was kidding at first. You’re not actually considering contacting him again, right?”

Even’s face drops. Mikael groans.

“Fuck- you _were_!”

“Nei! I wasn’t- I swear! It just sucks, that’s all!” he protests, but it falls on deaf ears. Now, both Mikael and Elias are glaring at him like disapproving parents. “It fucking sucks that you can click with someone so much and never see them again. I know I can’t contact him. I’m not stupid.”

“You wanted this life, Even,” Elias hums, eyes fixed back on his work, sounding eerily similar in tone _and_ substance to Even’s late father. “You asked for this. That means you have to follow the rules.”

“I know.” He nods, even though the thoughts swirling in his head are screaming _fuck the rules. Fuck Isak instead_. “I am. I will.”

 

 

He doesn’t.

 

 

It’s two weeks later and Even’s sitting in a different bar, hours away from the dingy dive he’d met Isak in the first time, but he’s ninety-nine percent certain it’s the same angel sitting in a booth near the back with a tall glass of beer untouched in front of him and a frown on his face, staring at his phone. This would be the point where Even, the good spy who follows rules and doesn’t jeopardise his whole career, would turn around and high-tail it straight out of there without a second look. _Spies don’t look back_ , his dad had always told him. _Only forwards_.

Even’s always tried his best to respect his dad’s wishes. But this is _Isak_.

His feet are moving before his brain can keep up, heading straight over to the booth and sitting down, grinning as Isak lifts his eyes and freezes slightly, before smirking right back.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He says.

“I could say the same for you.” Even replies. Isak sits up slightly, looking around the bar.

“Have you been staring at me this whole time?”

Even blushes slightly. “Only for the last like- twenty minutes. I decided I couldn’t _not_ come over, you know. That would be impolite- and I’m- I’m a polite guy. My parents raised me to be polite, above everything else.” He’s rambling and talking completely out of his ass, but Isak seems amused at least, it’s that’s worth the slight humiliation to see the glowing, amused look on his face (which is still, unfortunately, absolutely fucking more beautiful up close).

“Of course.” Isak nods, smiling hard like he’s trying to hold back a laugh. Even can’t look at his pretty mouth without picturing all the amazing things he can do with it- things he’s witnessed very much first hand. He squirms a little where he’s sitting, crossing his legs. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.” Even nods, dragging his finger up and down the edge of Isak’s glass absentmindedly. “Just, you know, _been-_ I guess. What about you? How have you- you know, been?”

“I’ve _been_ too, I guess.” Isak teases. Even grins, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, that was lame, wasn’t it?”

Isak shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “Little bit.”

They remain silent, just smiling at each other across the booth for a few seconds, eye contact not wavering. Even hasn’t seen this angel in weeks, but still- he feels totally at ease in Isak’s silent company. There’s electricity that crackles and pulls between them. He knows- he’s always _known_ \- from the moment he walked into the bar and saw Isak across the room- there was only one way the rest of the evening was going to go if he wanted to remain intact.

“This might sound keen-”

“-The answer is yes.” Isak cuts him off, eyes sparkling as he leans forwards on the table. Even leans back a little, more shocked than anything, eyebrows raised.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Don’t I?” Isak raises one eyebrow, challenging, and _fuck_ if it isn’t the most attractive thing Even’s ever seen. It isn’t exactly helping his downstairs situation- but then, he doesn’t think Isak’s intention _is_ to deter his _situation_ at all. “The answer is _yes_.” Isak repeats, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against Even’s, just barely, and it’s enough to have his heart hammering from inside his ribcage at a speed that can’t be healthy. Even bites onto the inside of his mouth, hard, and shakes his head.

“Okay then.” He smirks, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call us a cab.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Having sex with Isak in the dead of the night- all grabby hands and rough kisses and teeth scraped across flesh as they blunder between the sheets with the lights off- is _great._ Even’s done it twice now, and he’s definitely inclined to do so again. He’d come to terms with the fact that the seal on ‘following rules’ was very much broken and there was no going back sometime between when Isak pulled his mouth off of his dick and sat on it instead, before giving him the _literal_ ride of his life. There’s something so fucking enticing about just the silhouette of Isak’s gorgeous face in the shadows, pulling and twisting in pleasure, mouth falling open, quiet moans and pants leaking out uncontrollably.

But then- without the need to scamper off and report to HQ in the day that follows- Even finds something even better.

Having sex with Isak in the _morning_.

“ _Faen_ \- Even, don’t stop.” He whines, head thrown back into the pillows, arms wrapped around Even’s back, scratching red streaking lines into his skin. Even’s got a pretty good grip on his thighs, pushing them back so Isak’ is almost folded in half, knees brushing his shoulders. He’s surprisingly flexible for someone with such a perfectly athletic-but-not-in-an-excessive-way build. Isak is like a wet dream come to life. He’s all long legs and taut muscle- but he’s got soft hips and a round, pert ass and pretty lips and fairy-tale prince curls. Even’s completely lost in the moment- because now it’s daylight he can _watch_ Isak fall apart completely, eyes trained on every inch of his face, committing the whole picture to memory. This isn’t something he wants to forget any time soon, especially if he ends up not able to see it again.

Afterwards- once they’ve both finished and both laughed at each other’s fucked out faces and sweaty, flushed skin- Even drags himself out of bed and throws on some clothes. He throws some more in Isak’s direction, and heads off to the kitchen, letting Isak know to follow him whenever he’s ready. It’s nice- having a hook-up in his own house. He doesn’t have the guilt of sneaking out hanging around his shoulders. Rifling through the fridge ( _Fuck, when was the last time any shopping got done?)_ Even decides it’s going to have to be scrambled eggs for breakfast. Luckily enough for Isak, he makes the best fucking scrambles eggs in the universe.

It’s fifteen minutes or so later when Isak appears in the kitchen doorway, looking adorable in one of Even’s white t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts folded at the waistband because obviously, they’re much too long for him. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, his clothes on Isak’s skin (but it is).

“When I woke up, this morning…” he says, looking a little sheepish. “Just for a second, I… uh, I thought you’d left.”

“Isak, this is my apartment.” Even laughs slightly, focusing on stirring his eggs. Isak doesn’t laugh, and when Even looks over to him, if anything, he looks a little scared. And then it hits him.

Isak thought he’d _left_. _Again_.

“Baby, look- I’ve been here the whole time.” He drops everything, rushing over to hold Isak’s face between his hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry- about last time. I shouldn’t have left it was just- I had a huge work thing and I woke up late and… there wasn’t time to explain. I’m sorry. I hope I can make it up to you with breakfast.” He kisses Isak again, just to be sure, holding him tightly. Then, finally, when he pulls away, Isak is smiling.

“Depends what you’re making.” He says, playful edge that Even’s grown to love in an alarmingly short amount of time finally returning to his tone. Even steps away from him and grins, turning back to his masterpiece. He wasn’t kidding about making the best eggs ever. Mamma had taught him well.

“Here, try some.” He lifts the spoon to Isak’s lips, and (albeit hesitantly) he accepts, opening his mouth and trying a taste. “The secret is a spoonful of sour cream. Mamma’s secret recipe, so don’t tell anyone.”

“She must be a good cook.”

Even laughs. “Oh no, she couldn’t cook for shit. My dad did all the cooking. Mamma was only good at making scrambled eggs, hence why it’s such a treasured family secret.”

“I’ll take it to my grave.” Isak promises with a lazy smile, mouth still half full, before swallowing. “Fuck- those are good eggs.”

“I’m good at a lot of things.” Even hums, turning back to wiggle his eyebrows at Isak, who’s cheeks flush delightfully as his mouth explodes into a laugh.

“Can’t argue with that.” He smirks, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and looking away, down towards the floor. Even just grins, mostly to himself, before moving the eggs off the fire so they can cool. He’s about to turn and say something to Isak- something super-cool and smooth and sexy, _obviously_ , but he’s distracted when a song starts playing on the radio.

Even’s face drops. Isak just stares at him blankly.

“What?”

“This song though!” Even beams, reaching forwards to turn it up. Of course, in all other fields, he has exquisite, refined taste. Mikael has called him pretentious on more than one occasion. Even doesn’t deny it.

But this is _Gabrielle_.

Before he can stop himself, he’s grinning and singing and bopping his head to the beat as Isak remains completely frozen, eyes wide, staring at him like he’s grown a second head right there in the middle of the kitchen.

“C’mon?”

“Fy _faen_ ,” Isak rolls his eyes. “This is like a fucking _hashtag_.”

Even narrows his gaze, still dancing. He moves a little closer and Isak doesn’t lean away, smiling and flicking his hair about like the princess he is, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

“-you know, when you’ve found the man of your dreams and then it turns out he likes _Gabrielle_.”

Even’s heart stops.

“I’m the man of your dreams?” he asks, voice small. Isak freezes underneath his gaze. He splutters slightly, laughing nervously as if _that’s_ going to make Even forget the words spilt from his pretty mouth. “Me? Is it me you were talking to?” Even teases, pointing to himself and pretending to look around the kitchen for someone else, because _fuck_ , that makes it a just little easier to forget the very real truth that after today, after _this_ confession… there’s no fucking way he can let himself see Isak again.

“Nei- nei,” Isak shakes his head, but the truth is written all over his face. “I just- it’s the song! It’s how the hashtag goes, you know?”

“Say it again.” Even grins, because he fucking loves torturing himself, apparently? He doesn’t want to hear Isak say it again. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the sound of his voice and fucked-out happy look on his face when his eyes go hooded and he tilts his head up, silently asking for a kiss that Even withholds, ransom, until he gets what he wants. He touches Isak’s face gently. “Say it again.” Because he hates himself just that much.

“You’re the man of my dreams.”

And then they’re kissing, and Even forgets about breakfast all together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They eat the eggs cold, and Even grimaces at the way Isak smothers his in ketchup with reckless abandon. They smoke weed in Even’s bedroom, both sat on opposite ends of the windowsill, puffing smoke outside into the cold air. They talk about music- because of course, Isak loves 90s hip-hop too. He’s never heard of Nas- but he pretends he has- and Even can forgive him after he sees the shy, distantly embarrassed look on his face.

The day passes in a sort of happy blur. It’s like they’ve been transported somewhere not quite earth, but similar enough, trapped in their own makeshift bubble of contentment. They’ve got weed, rancid cheese toasties with too many spices, each other. Even hasn’t felt quite so at peace in years.

It all ends, again, in bed. What Even has learnt about Isak in the short space of time they’ve known each other- is that he can take a _lot_. Him and Isak in a room together are never more than a few heated looks and a kiss away from falling into bed together, and Even can’t complain, because it’s the best sex he’s had since- well- _ever_.

He falls asleep afterwards, Isak laid back against his chest, hair damp with sweat, panting. It’s nice. Peaceful. Calm. Even doesn’t give things a second thought before his eyes are falling closed and his breathing regulates and Isak shifts against him. They need to talk- of course they need to talk, but that can wait until tomorrow morning. Even wouldn’t mind if tomorrow morning never even came.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But it does.

He wakes up a little later than usual. School drills and naturally being an early riser always saw Even up and awake before the clock had time to strike into double digits, but this time, when he wakes up, his internal body clock tells him it’s far later. One- maybe even two? Despite sleeping far longer than he ever usually would, he’s still tired. It’s a little disorientating.

Isak is nowhere to be seen. He isn’t beside Even in bed, pouting in his sleep with a stray curl falling in front of his eye. He isn’t in the shower, or brushing his teeth with Even’s spare, or in the main room, or in the kitchen, repaying the debt of breakfast. He isn’t anywhere. His clothes- once neatly folded and left on top of Even’s laundry pile- are gone, replaced with the borrowed clothes he’d been parading around in all day. Even holds the t-shirt he’d leant Isak up to his nose and, without thinking, presses it to his mouth and inhales. It’s embarrassing and just a little bit pathetic- but the shirt smells like Isak and so does his bedsheets and he could honestly suffocate in it and die happy.

He picks up his phone, left on the nightstand, and stares at Isak’s number. They’d exchanged numbers yesterday- and Even knew it was stupid, giving out his _real_ , _personal_ number to a fucking civilian- but Isak’s eyes were so pretty he got lost inside of them and his brain didn’t have time to catch up with his fingers.

 _Call him_ \- the little devil on his shoulder is _really_ , testing him today. Even puts his phone back down. If anything, Isak’s sudden disappearance is a blessing in disguise. It prevents the awkward you-should-probably-leave conversation he’d been rehearsing in his dreams.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less, obviously. Even tries to ignore the pang in his chest when he looks over at the empty half on the bed. He reaches out for his phone again-   _one text can’t hurt, right?_ \- but thinks better of it and drops his hand back to his side.

Unsure what to think, Even does the only thing he can think to do.

He sleeps. Sleep has never betrayed him before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s awoken, several hours later, sadly _not_ to Isak and his pretty lips peppering across his face. Instead, it’s a loud abnoxious banging at his front door, followed by some suspicious clicking and heavy footsteps. Even’s body goes on autopilot, despite being groggy and still half asleep, he grabs the gun (hidden under his bed so Isak wouldn’t see) and leaps out of bed, grip tight, arms locked, aimed at the front door.

He clicks the safety off as the door is thrown open- but doesn’t shoot.

It’s fucking _Mikael_ and _Elias_.

“Fy _faen_ , really?” he groans, flicking the safety back on and tossing the gun back onto the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Guys, I was asleep. Did you really have to bust in here like that? I’m not _dying_. _Hva_ _faen_?”

Neither bother answering either of his questions- Elias runs straIGHT over to his desk and opening his laptop quickly, Miakel remains stood in the doorway with a gun tucked into the holster underneath his arm and a strange look in his eyes.

“What?” Even squints, looking from Mikael, over to Elias (he’s frowning, typing at rapid speed, phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder, barking questions at a recipient Even really feels sorry for) and back to Mikael. “ _What?”_  he repeats, a little harsher.

“There’s been a leak.” Mikael says, frozen in position at the doorway. “And Mutta says it came from here.”

That’s about the moment Even’s heart shoots from where it had already been sulking in his stomach, right up to his throat, choking him out.

“It can’t have.” He says quietly. Elias turns around and stares at him, laptop open, lines of code spilling out that Even can barely comprehend. He’s no hacker. Field work was always more his thing. “It can’t have.” He repeats. “I’ve been _napping_ for fucks sake.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Mikael frowns, and the honest-to-god suspicion in his stare hurts Even more than it should. They’re supposed to be best friends. They’re support to trust each other. However, if they learnt anything from spy-school, it was never to let your guard down fully. Nobody is who they say they are. Not to the core. You can never really ‘trust’ anyone- no matter how much you want to. “You can’t have been sleeping _all_ _day_?”

“Not _all_ day, no-”

“-the first leak happened yesterday morning. Then, another today around midday. From here.” Elias says. Even throws his arms up in the air.

“Then it definitely couldn’t have been me.” midday was around the time he’d came all over Isak’s soft chest, before getting up to make them both breakfast, leaving the boy happy and fucked-out in his bed. “I was busy.” _Yeah_ , he wants to scoff. _Busy_.

“Doing _what_?” Miakel, like a dog with a bone, isn’t going to drop it any time soon. Even bites the inside of his cheek and looks between his two friends. On one hand, he doesn’t want to be caught out for doing the one thing both his best friend’s told him _not_ to do. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to lie to them either. On the proverbial third hand- he really doesn’t want Mikael or Elias to put a bullet in his skull because they thought he’d spent the day leaking company secrets rather than getting his dick wet and his heart broken.

“Doing Isak.” He admits, voice quiet and Mikael groans, rolling his eyes.

“ _Seriously_ , Ev? You brought him _here_? Are you _insane_?”

“Look- it just _happened_.”

“Isak.” Elias is mumbling under his breath, tapping his phone against his knee, brow furrowed in deep thought. “Isak… hmm…”

“How did you even _find_ him?” Mikael demands. Even runs his hands through his hair, frustrated, confused, annoyed- amongst other feelings. Even the mention of Isak’s name has a panging sadness stabbing in his chest. It’s also bringing up memories of the day just past

“I just did- I don’t know! He was in the bar around the corner. It just _happened-”_

“ _Isak_?”

“-if you wanted to _fuck_ so bad, Even, you could’ve called a fucking escort service. Why risk getting in trouble for this one guy?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“ _Try_ me.”

 

“Can we not focus on what I do or do not do in my personal life?” Even yells back. “There’s been a fucking leak, from my computer. It must’ve been done remotely, because obviously it wasn’t from me- and it sure as hell wasn’t from _Isak_!”

And then the tense silence is broken by Elias, apparently suffering some kind of stroke?- because Even’s never seen him lose motor function like this, dropping his phone flat on the floor, glass shattering with a jarring, loud _crack_.

“Fucking _Isak_?” His gaze darkens, staring at Even. “ _Isak_ _Valtersen_? About six foot one- blonde? Curly hair? Green eyes?”

Even’s chest tightens. He tilts his head to the side and takes a step towards Elias.

“How the fuck do you know Isak?”

“ _Faen_.” Elias swears, throwing his head into his hands and shaking it. “Even. You fucking _moron_.” He groans, before turning back to the computer, typing furiously as he makes his way into the agencies database. That database contains the information of over a million intelligence agents across the globe, and even knowing that information, Even has no idea where Elias is going with this until- well-

Until Isak’s picture is on the screen.

“This Isak?” Elias asks, tone flat. Even walks forwards, Mikael not far behind, and bends over to look at the screen. Clear as day, curls and all, Isak’s face, a little younger and eyes just a little less _alive_ , stares right back at him. _Isak Valtersen. Hartvig Nissen Intellegence (HNI) Agent. Known Skills: hand-to-hand-combat, computer hacking, misdirection, knife combat, precision firearms, diplomacy_ -

-the list goes on. It’s longer than Even’s list. The only skill Even doesn’t see that he _knows_ Isak has for sure is _stealing his fucking heart_.

“Well.” He swallows thickly. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Elias glares at him. “ _Shit_. I knew the name was fucking familiar. He works with my sister over at Nissen. He’s a fucking genius hacker- probably better than Mutta and he’s pretty good at everything else too, including- I guess- sucking you off until you forget your fucking protocols on sensitive information.”

Head in hands, Even can do nothing but nod his head. It’s the first time in a long, long history of espionage and debauchery, that he has been honest-to-God played. Instead of annoyance, he feels refreshed. If anything, he’s fucking impressed. Isak is _good_. Even wants to be angry, but there’s still respect in his art. Isak really did play him like a fucking violin- and not maybe people have been able to do that. Not anyone, ever, to this extent.

“At least we know it wasn’t Even,” Mikael offers, quietly. Elias huffs, but nods, getting up from the chair.

“Thankfully the information leaked wasn’t too sensitive. The agency were just more concerned that they thought it came from you.” He folds his arms across his chest, giving Even that same disapproving dad look. “I’ll tell them you were out and your place got broken into, no harm done.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

Thankfully, Elias smiles. “You always owe me one.”

“Hey, look on the bright side!” Mikael says, entirely too chipper for the sombre tone in the room, hand resting on Even’s shoulder. “At least now we _know_ you won’t be seeing him again.”

Even frowns. “Oh, no, I’m _definitely_ going to see him again.” He says. Mikael and Elias share a confused look. Mikael frowns. Elias just looks tired.

“I mean, _c’mon_.” Even laughs. “You think I can just let him play me so fucking beautifully and never see him again? I’ve got to congratulate him at least. He was _very_ convincing.”

“But Even-”

“-Leave it,” Elias interrupts, pulling Mikael towards the door by the back of his shirt collar. “On your own head fucking be it, Even.” He doesn’t even bother looking back, just drags Mikael out of the apartment and closes the door behind them. Even laughs at the absurdity of it all, wandering back into his bedroom and staring at his phone.

Of course, Isak gave him _a_ phone number. There’s no chance in hell it would be _his_ phone number because clearly, he’s a lot less sloppy in his work than Even is.

 _Although_ … the devil on his shoulder chimes in right on schedule, stroking a hand over the fold of his ear and dragging soft lips across the skin that lies there … _He screwed up enough to give you his real name_.

It’s a fair point. Isak had genuinely looked flustered that night at the bar- and had blurted out his real name without a second thought. Maybe he isn’t as perfect as Even believes him to be- maybe he is. He doesn’t bother waiting around to hear what the rational side of his brain cares to think about the whole situation. His phone is already in his hand, fingers flying over the keys, typing out a text.

 

 

 

**_ISAK <3_ **

****

_Good game, Valtersen. (16:42)_

Even almost wants him to not reply. He wants it to be a fake number. He wants to believe that Isak’s played the perfect game-

-but then his phone buzzes five minutes later.

 

 

_(16:47) Thanks for making it so easy, Even Bech Næsheim_

 

Even grins down at his phone.

 

 

_Wow, what kind of spy are you? Giving out your real name and number? Who trained you in the art of espionage? James Bond? (16:48)_

 

_(16:50) Well, I knew who you were, so I figured my information would be in safe hands._

_(16:50) Also you were hotter than I expected and it kind of slipped out._

_just out of interest, what was going to be your chosen pseudonym? (16:51)_

_Just so I can re-imagine what name I would’ve been groaning during our time together. (16:52)_

_(16:54) Adrian Eskett_

_Adrian Eskett? That sounds like a pornstar’s name! (16:56)_

_quite fitting, actually. (16:56)_

_(16:58) Are you suggesting I fuck like a porn-star?_

_Nah (16:59)_

_You’re better ;) (17:00)_


	2. Worlds Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even really wants to see Isak again, but it's fucking hard when your jobs consistently send you to opposite ends of the globe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a part two! And I also may or may not be writing a part three... four... five... etc. Hopefully they wont take me as long.

** World’s Apart **

****

 

 

 

Now that they had a far more accurate understanding of each other, Even genuinely looked forwards to most of his interactions with Isak. They weren’t dating, and they certainly weren’t _friends_ (Isak reminded him of the fact on an almost daily basis) but they spoke often enough, texting through the encrypted radio signals of their personal phones whilst simultaneously going on living life in the most fast-paced, dangerous job you could find in a country as quaint and uneventful as Norway.

That was mainly the reason they hadn’t actually seen each other, since the day Isak drugged him to sleep and then stole private information from Even’s computer. In Norway, there wasn’t exactly a lot going on, espionage-wise. Their respective agencies worked in conjunction with MI6 and other, more large-scale European organisations and didn’t do much more than provide warm bodies and intelligence support whenever summoned upon. It was almost like working freelance, but still with the necessary government ties to get a collection of 100% valid fake passports and fly around the world free of charge.

Despite both being from Norway, it was rare for Isak and Even to be in the same country at the same time, let alone the same continent or timezone. Therefore, texting was the easiest way to keep in contact- and Even was plenty ready to strap himself in and play the flirting long game until the time came for Isak and his paths to cross again.

 

 

 

**_ISAK <3_ **

_(13:04) Fuck, Mozambique is hot._

Even grinned down at his phone. They didn’t really have long running cohesive conversations, just short bursts of unrelated messages whenever they had a spare moment between work. Isak was in Mozambique, apparently. Even didn’t know what he was doing there or for whom, but those details didn’t matter. He was on a mission in the southern half of Sweden, not too far from home, but he couldn’t tell Isak that for reasons that were classified. Of course, Isak was good enough at his job to trace his phone signal to the nearest cell tower with a quick swipe of his thumb, but Even tried not to think too hard about that. It was hardly protocol to be exchanging in fleeting, flirty banter over text with an agent from an enemy organisation- but he’d broken the seal on rule-following from the moment they met. The rest was semantics.

 

 

_Funny, I was just thinking that you’ve mozambiqued my interest (13:07)_

 

 

Isak didn’t reply straight away, and he wouldn’t reply straight away. Isak never replied straight away. He took risks, sure (like that time he ‘accidentally’ sent Even a picture of him shirtless when he was out to dinner with a series of important Italian diplomats gathering evidence for a near-future fraud hearing) but he didn’t actually slack off work quite to the calibre that Even did. If anything, he was more of a workaholic than Elias, and Even found it _adorable_.

 

_(15:06) You’re lucky you’re pretty._

_Aw, baby, you think I’m pretty? (15:32)_

_(15:42) Don’t call me baby._

 

It went on like that for weeks. Even was posted in France for six days, so he sent Isak a selfie of him underneath the _Eiffel Tower_ with the caption ‘ _Paris is nice, but I’d rather get an Eiffel of you’_ , and then, by the time Isak replied the next day ( _you’re such a fucking nerd_ ) he was too busy helping diffuse a plot to bomb a riverboat on the _Seine_ to reply. That was sort of how things went. Isak had a tendency to reply whenever Even was in the middle of imminent danger- and it genuinely concerned Even how seriously he considered stopping what he was doing to quip back immediately.

 

“You’re in _love_ ,” Mikael sing-songed as they roped down the side of a particularly steep cliff face, looking for a hidden sealed box of classifies documents, stolen and stashed in one of the mountain’s many hidden caves. Even rolled his eyes and adjusted his harness.

“It’s just a bit of harmless flirting.”

“You don’t _just flirt_ with anyone.” Mikael countered. “You wanted to marry that barista in Naples who drew a heart on the side of your cup.”

Even gritted his teeth. “I mentioned that our kids would have pretty eyes _one time-”_

 _“-because you’re a total romantic sap Even, yes, we know.”_ Yousef’s voice chimed in over the radio ear-piece Even had forgotten he was even wearing.

“I can’t do this if you two gang up on me.” he huffed, creeping down the rock a little further. Mikael winked at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Isak will find a way to hack into our database and send you a mission conveniently in the same location as him very soon.”

“ _A mission…”_ Yousef stopped to snort a laugh, clearly very pleased with whatever it was he was about to say. _“In his pants?”_

“That’s it!” Even exclaimed, loud enough that a few nearby birds squawked and flew away. “I’m unclipping this harness and letting myself shatter against that particularly sharp rock-” he pointed several hundred feet down, where jagged stone made up the floor beneath them. “- _unless_ you two shut up teasing me about Isak.”

Mikael just smiled, coy, far too initiative for his own fucking good. Then, after five or so more minutes of completely silent climbing-

 _“He is pretty cute though_.”

 

 

 

 

**_ISAK <3_ **

_(21:18) I went to India once_

_Oh, really? Sounds cool. (21:20)_

_(21:21) Yeah, I’d love to Goa there with you one day_

_(21:21) ;)_

_I KNEW YOU SECRETLY LIKED THESE JOKES (21:24)_

_(21:25) Tell anyone and I will kill you_

_(21:26) and I’m a spy, so you know that’s not hyperbole_

 

By the time fate intervened and put them in the same country at the same time, Even was pretty close to just skiving off his mission running intelligence through Croatia just to fly down to Bosnia and whisk Isak off his feet. Despite the constant denial he (unsuccessfully) sold to his friends, he knew, deep down, that he liked Isak in a little more than _I-admire-both-his-affluent-deception-and-tight-ass_ kind of way. And maybe, yeah, it wouldn’t be an entirely _repulsive_ concept to see him again.

 

 

 

**ISAK <3**

_(12:32) I need to sleep to counteract the jet lag I’m going to feel once I get to London tomorrow_

_You’re in London tomorrow??? (12:35)_

_(12:35) what, no pun?_

_I’m in London tomorrow! On a conference? (12:37)_

_(12:38) MI6? Russian corruption thing?_

_Guess Ben’s not the only Big you’ll be seeing… (12:40)_

_(12:41) That was the worst one._

_(21:41) Ever._

_(21:41) Just awful._

_OK, I admit, it was bad (12:43)_

_I’ll take you on a date to make up for it? (21:44)_

_(21:45) Spies don’t go on dates, Even._

_(21:46) We go on missions and then sleep for forty-eight hours and then start again._

_Not this spy, baby (21:48)_

_(21:49) Stop calling me that._

_(21:49) The people who monitor our texts might get the wrong idea._

_Let them. (21:50)_

He was glad his desperation wasn’t coming off too pathetic in the constant stream of text conversation. In reality, Even was laid in his borrowed bed with his phone gripped tightly in his right hand, grinning like a fucking idiot at the prospect of tomorrow, finally being able to see Isak again. When Isak didn’t reply to his text, he immediately started googling _fun London date ideas_ and instead of following in Isak’s footsteps- forcing himself to sleep to counteract the jetlag he would soon feel- Even stayed up all night and far into the early hours of the morning, figuring out just what would be the perfect first date for the perfect, uptight, lying _agent_.

 

* * *

 

 

Isak’s flight got into the airport just a few hours before Even’s, so he didn’t get the chance to set eyes on the other until two o’clock rolled around, and he caught sight of a halo of blonde hair, checking in at MI6 just as he breached the giant green glass building.

“I feel like the English take the whole, hiding in plain sight thing a little too seriously.” He mumbled into Isak’s ear, sneaking up on him from behind once he’d passed his security check. Isak didn’t even blink, grabbing Even in a headlock and almost tossing him over his shoulder before Even counteracted his attack and wormed out of his tight grip, out of breath and laughing. When Isak turned and saw who his opponent was, his ‘game-face’ softened into an annoyed, but distantly amused, pout.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me in the middle of MI6, Even.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest and apparently doing his damn best not to grin like an idiot. Even certainly wasn’t holding back, looking down at Isak and beaming.

“You almost had me for a second there,” he teased, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and rocking back on his heels. “You’ve just got to learn to shift your weight a little more- then you have the advantage over-”

“-my enemy even though I’m a lot smaller than them, yes, Even, I know. I went to school just the same as you.” He rolled his eyes, and the two began walking through the MI6 foyer, heading to the auditorium their conference was being held in. Even had only visited the main MI6 headquarters once or twice in his life- but Isak walked the twisting, narrow corridors with practised ease, not once stopping to check where he was going.

“I was meaning to ask about that,” Even mused aloud, brain vibrating with all the questions he’d been waiting to ask Isak now they had a chance to talk properly. “You didn’t go to _Etterretningstjenesten_ , I would’ve remembered that face.” He reached forwards and snagged the edge of Isak’s cheek with his thumb, startling him and making him blush. Even bit his lip to hide his grin. Isak’s barely-there rose-tinted blush was slowly making its way up the list of things Even loved to look at the most. “So where did you go? Is there another secret spy school I should know about?”

Isak scoffed, just as they came to a stop in front of a large, wooden-panelled double door with a retina and fingertip scan fixed to the wall.

“You’ve been watching too many movies.” He said, before placing his whole hand on the scanner and peering through the eyehole until the light above the door flashed green, and it flew open, revealing a very… _unremarkable_ looking lecture hall, more than half of the required attendees already settled into their seats, typing away on laptops or scribbling on wads of notepaper.

“So where-”

“ _Sh_!” A random person Even certainly didn’t know cut him off, pointing with the rubber end of his pencil to the sign hanging above the giant projection screen where the guest talker was due to take their place any moment. _NO TALKING_.

“Sorry.” Even mouthed back, hands up in surrender. Isak just laughed at him, and nodded silently for Even to follow as he made his way up the stands, finding them a half-decent spot to sit.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shut _up_ , Even.”

“I can’t help it! You were so cute- taking notes in your little notebook, wearing _glasses_? How am I supposed to not laugh?”

“I told you, I forgot my contact lenses in Bosnia- and why _weren’t_ you taking notes? Do you have some kind of photographic memory I need to be worried about?”

“Nah, not worried.” Even grinned. “Besides- I just figured I’d copy off yours later.”

Isak rolled his eyes, smirking as the underground train rattled its way through dark tunnels that lurked beneath the City of London. They were on their way to the date Even had planned, and despite Isak’s reluctant attitude, Even could tell that not-so-secretly, he was excited.

“So there’s a later?” Isak asked, raising his eyebrows playfully. Even bit down on his bottom lip, still smiling.

“It’s us, baby. There’s _always_ going to be a later. It’s a well-known fact that you can’t resist me.”

“Well, I don’t know about that-”

“-this is our stop.” Even interrupted, grabbing Isak by the hand and pulling him off the underground train as it screeched to a stop and the doors slid open. Isak blushed a little as he was pulled along behind, but didn’t move to separate their fingers. Even did his best not to grin like an idiot, but it was nice to notice that Isak’s hands were warm and soft and a little bit clammy, just as his were. The crowd of passengers swarmed around them, too noisy with the roaring of the trains to make much conversation, but Isak seemed perfectly happy tucked into his side as they road up the escalators, skipped through the barriers and made their way out into the cool, evening air.

“Where are we going?” Isak asked. Even rolled his eyes.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I’m a spy.” He smirked. “I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.”

Even pulled him along a few side streets, mainly following the map he’d read earlier from memory (because, okay, maybe Isak was right and he _did_ sort of have a borderline eidetic memory due to his highly developed intellect) and Isak followed without too much complaining. They only walked for around ten minutes or so when Even spotted the building they’d been heading too, and gestured grandly towards it.

“What is this?” Isak narrowed his gaze, ever the sceptic, looking up at the tall structure.

“It’s an open-air theatre.” Even grinned. “On a fucking rooftop. In _London_. Tell me that isn’t the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“ _Faen_ ,” Isak looked up at the building, eyes wide and shining before Even tugged him inside, handing in their tickets at the box office. “I’m actually surprised. This is really cool, Even.”

“I know.” Even felt confident in his smugness. A considerable amount of effort had gone into planning this date, and Even was relieved to finally have Isak beside him at all- both of them walking the same soil, sat underneath the same night sky.

They made their way up to the rooftop of the building hand in hand, Even laying down a blanket he’d packed with him over the fake grass sp that they could sit down amongst the crowd, pulling Isak’s hand and bowing to him like royalty. Isak rolled his eyes, cheeks flushed, and pretended to be annoyed, but Even could see straight through him. Isak was a good liar, sure, but Even was pretty sure now that they were off the clock, he could get a pretty good reading on the other boy.

“Is that a seven-inch serrated steel combat knife strapped to your thigh or are you just happy to see me?” he teased as Isak made himself comfortable on the floor, earning himself another glare.

“Keep your voice down, people around us are gonna think we’re insane.” He scolded in a harsh whisper, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. Even smirked.

“Sorry.” He leant closer, lips brushing Isak’s ear ‘accidentally’. “Wouldn’t want them to know about the forty-five automatic hidden underneath the left side of your jacket either.”

Isak gritted his teeth, heat flushing to his cheeks as Even’s breath trickles down his neck. “Shut _up_ Even.”

“And call me crazy,” he whispered, one hand creeping down Isak’s leg and brushing against his shin. but wasn’t that a regulation lock pick disguised as a swiss army knife strapped against your ankle too?”

“Okay, enough!” Isak giggled, cheeks flushed as he looked around to check if anyone was listening in on them. Thankfully, nobody was as the trailers has already started playing and the lights dimmed around them. For once in his life, Even didn’t even care about the movie about to play (Reservoir Dogs, one of his all-time favourites for obvious reasons). He was perfectly content just watching Isak squirm.

“It’s impressive you managed to bring so much through the metal detector at the front door.” He laughed, quietly. “I’m even more excited to get your clothes off now.”

Isak rolled his eyes, but judging by the way he was squirming, Even’s low tones and teasing words were getting to him, even if only a little.

“Well, you know, you can never be too careful.” He said, turning his head to look Even in the eye. “You’re a spy.” He whispered. “You might murder me.”

“Murder that pretty face?” Even shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head. “Oh, baby it would hurt. But… orders are orders.” He smiled. Isak just laughed.

“Shut-up and watch the movie.” He said, nodding to the screen in front of them. “and I guess later we’ll see about the rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even saw the rest. He saw it once they got back to Isak’s hotel. He saw it again in the shower two hours later. He saw it again the following morning. And this time, when they both collapsed- red and sweaty with matching grins and heaving chests- Even didn’t even have to worry about Isak slipping a roofie into his water. He was totally comfortable falling asleep with the fellow spy laid beside him- even went as far as to raise an arm and cradle Isak underneath. Then, a few hours later, Even woke up _not_ to find Isak and half his computer files missing. Instead, Isak was still laid against his chest, snoring quietly, curls bouncing as Even’s chest rose and fell.

If Even had to describe his feelings in one word, he’d probably say _content_. He’d honestly never felt so at peace with another person. Maybe it was because Isak was in the same line of work so he didn’t feel like he had to hide such a big part of himself. Maybe it was just because they were made for each other, work and life and universes be damned. Even decided he didn’t really care to know. All he cared about was that he had Isak, here and now, and he was so _fucking beautiful_ as the sunlight filtered through the curtains they’d forgotten to close in their haste and lit up his skin and his hair.

Without even thinking, Even reached forwards and ran his fingers through the golden strands. Isak stirred as he did so, practically purring as he rolled over onto his back, turning his head so he could still lay on Even’s chest, but face him instead. Even pushed his hair back, away from his eyes.

“Morning sunshine.”

Isak frowned. “Shut up. It’s early.”

Even just laughed quietly. It made perfect sense- of course, Even always rose with the sun but Isak was as far from being a morning person as could be. They were opposites in every way, which was probably why they worked so perfectly together.

“It isn’t early.” He scoffed. “It’s nearly one o’clock.”

“Shit!” Isak bolted up, panic-stricken. “I need to be at the airport in an hour.”

“Uh, _ja_ , I know.” Even replied, unbothered by Isak’s sudden haste. “That’s why I woke up an hour ago and packed up all the shit you left on the floor, left your bag by the door and laid out clothes for you to fly in.” he gestured over to the tiny hotel room table, where a pair of black jeans and a hoodie and fresh underwear had been left in a neat pile. Even wasn’t kidding about being a morning person. After they’d slept together again he barely crashed out for half an hour before he was up again, buzzing with energy. He spotted Isak’s flight details left out by his incredibly neatly packed duffel bag. Unsurprisingly, the universe had worked more of it’s magic to keep them close. They were on the same flight.

“I figured you could hop in the shower, we could swing by my hotel room and grab my bag and then the airport is only like- twenty minutes from there. Sound good?”

“ _Faen_.” Isak breathed, collapsing back onto Even’s chest and pressing a kiss against his pec. “Where have you been all my life, _serr_?”

“Oh, you know,” Even snickered, stroking the side of Isak’s face gently. “Saving the world. We should get up. We might have time to grab a shitty airport breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t have time for the shitty airport breakfast- because Even, scatter-brained as he was, managed to forget his passport and only remember that he’d forgotten it halfway through their journey to the airport. Isak had practically screamed at him- treatment Even had taken in his stride with an easy going laugh and a casual flick of the rented cars steering wheel as they turned around and re-joined traffic heading back into the city.

They made it onto the flight- just about. Isak was sat in the window seat glaring at him with his earphones in and volume turned all the way up. Even grinned, snuggling up closer to him, lifting the arm rest that separated them once the plane had taken off safely.

“Whatcha listening to?”

Isak glared, and didn’t reply. So instead, Even reached forwards and plucked one earphone out of his ear, placing it in his own. He nodded along to the music.

“Oh, _NWA_. Awesome.”

Isak’s glare softened. “You listen to hip-hop?”

“Of course I do,” Even laughed. “Hey, you’ve listened to Nas, right?”

Isak didn’t quite want to strangle him so much after that. Even found the way he pretended to know Nas adorable, but nothing compared to the soft, amused look on Isak’s face when they switched to sharing music from Even’s phone, _Illmatic_ blaring, Even mouthing along to all the words.

“You’re a dork.” Isak looked at him through hooded, sleepy eyes, a soft grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even reached forwards and brushed his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. It was an innocent enough gesture- one that shocked them both in just how natural it felt. It was so _simple_ and _easy_ and _domestic_ between them, despite the fact they’d only met in person three times. Suddenly, Even’s stomach turned at the thought of touching back down in Norway- knowing they’d immediately head back to their separate agencies, sent out on separate jobs, God knows where. Who knew when the next time they’d be able to see each other was. Even didn’t want to think about it.

The thumping bassline and record scratching of _The World Is Yours_ was interrupted by Even’s text alert. He found it strange- considering they were flying at thirty-six thousand feet in the air and the in-flight wifi was locked from non-first-class passengers- but with the amount of days he’d had to wait to get his new phone from the agency when they rolled out their own personal smart-phone plan, he supposed it wasn’t that surprising to imagine they’d unlocked _something_ , accessing him signal in the weirdest of places.

“Mine went off too.” Isak frowned, pulling his own identical phone from his pocket and holding it out beside Even’s. both push notifications was similar- both from their respective agencies, both only reading _MESSAGE ENCRYPTED, ACTIVATE TOUCH ID TO VIEW_.

At the same time, they unlocked the messages and under their breaths, read the very same message.

 

 

_Halla, agents!_

_We are delighted to inform you that under a new initiative from MI6, both Norwegian intelligence agencies- HARTVIG NISSEN_ _and ELVEBAKKEN- will be merging under one new name: TEXT WITHELD_. _We are looking forward to seeing you all soon, at our new headquarters, located in TEXT WITHELD_.  _STARTING FROM-_

 

 

There were more logistics, further encryption and a whole, deadlocked map reference that Even knew he was far too lazy to try and hack his way into. Even didn’t care- he understood more or less what the text was saying, and looked up from his phone to Isak- who had _obviously_ already cracked eighty percent of the hidden content as his thumbs flew across the screen, tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrated.

“Looks like you will be seeing more of me after all, _baby_.” He said, catching his attention. Isak looked up at him and grinned, rolling his eyes.

“That’s a shame.” He said. “I thought sleeping with the enemy sounded pretty sexy.”

Even laughed, reaching forwards to brush a stray curl peeking out from Isak’s beanie behind his ear before he stroked his face fondly, shifting so they were even closer together.

“We could always role play?” he teased. Isak huffed.

“You’re _such_ a dork.”

Grinning, Even swam into Isak’s personal space and rubbed their noses together. Isak tilted his head back, silently asking for a kiss. Even didn’t grant his wish.

“You loooooooove me.” he whispered against Isak’s lips, only to be faced with _another_ prissy eyeroll.

“I _like_ you.” He said. “We’ll have to see about the rest.”

Even was satisfied with that. Smiling, he leant forwards and pressed their lips together, and they kissed and kissed and kissed until the flight attendant walked past, clearing her throat and reminding them that the plane was getting ready for landing- and they’d both need to return safely to their seats and buckle their seatbelts.


	3. When In Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak's on a mission in Italy during his and Even's 'three month anniversary'. Alone. As if Even would ever let that happen.

**When in Rome**

 

 

Isak considered it a long weekend more so than a job.

It was the easiest take he’d done in a while. Just a clean take-out job on a corrupt politician in the centre of Venice. He didn’t have to worry about security or children or anything else particularly unsavoury, and felt quite pleased with himself as he entered the quaint little bar on a cobblestone Italian street, body already disposed of and gun packed away tightly into his bag.

He approached the bar and was served immediately, an attractive, buff barman with a sparkle in his wicked brown eyes and a flirty tone sliding him a drink and telling him to _have a good night_ with a wink as he handed over his phone number. A few months ago, Isak would’ve been ready to climb the stud like a tree- but now, things were different, and he felt nothing at all as he scrunched the scrawled on receipt up in his hands and tossed it onto the floor like a speck of lint.

He sipped his jack and coke, looking around the bar distractedly. He didn’t plan on staying long, knowing his flight was fairly early the next morning. Sometimes, it was just nice to have a stiff drink after a job to settle his post-mission jitters and help him sleep. It wasn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms, sure but with a vague shrug, Isak figured some spies took it much worse and did things far more self-destructive on a daily basis. So far, he was doing okay, so he necked his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Next ones on me.” a voice said from behind in fluent, smooth Italian. Isak shook his head.

“No thanks.” He replied, starting to turn around. “I’m actually turning in after-”

His words were cut short when he locked eyes with a smug, grinning Even stood opposite him in a suit and slightly open white shirt, sliding another jack and coke over in his direction. Speechless, Isak just stared at him with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in shock.

“ _What_?” Even scoffed, effortlessly switching back to Norwegian without so much as a blink. “You really thought I’d let you go to Italy all alone for three days and _not_ experience a romantic, whirlwind evening? I’m a spy but I’m not _heartless,_ Isak.”

Isak grinned, shaking his head slowly. “I _hate_ you.”

Even leant forwards, dropping a soft chaste kiss on his lips. “Happy one-month anniversary.” He whispered and Isak couldn’t bare holding back any longer. He threw his arms around the back of Even’s neck and kissed him sweetly, allowing Even’s tongue to prod at the seam of his mouth before he opened it slightly, and then they were making out in the middle of an Italian bar, not caring about any of the eyes that flew to them.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Even giggled, pulling back as Isak whined and chased his lips. “I actually made plans for this that weren’t just ‘make out in the bar’- although, that _was_ on the list.”

Isak rolled his eyes, smiling. “Okay, fine. What’s the date then?”

“Well we are in Italy-” Even took a step back, pulling one of Isak’s hands between his. “-so I figured a good place to start would be pizza.”

“Of course,” Isak huffed. “Because it wouldn’t be an _Even_ -planned date without the biggest cliché of them all.”

“When in Rome, I suppose.” He grinned. Isak grinned back.

“This is Venice, dipshit.”

The clichés didn’t stop there. Isak got happily tipsy from a few glasses of wine in the cutest, quaint little side-street pizzeria and then Even dragged him through the cobblestones streets by the hand until they made it to the river, where a tea-light ridden _Gondola_ was waiting for them in the water.

Isak didn’t care that it was cliché and contrived and very _very_ cheesy- it was _Even_ and his whole face lit up as the candle light surrounded them, making Isak think he was maybe the most beautiful person in the entire fucking world. Maybe the universe. Quite possibly the _multiverse_.

“Sorry if you think it’s a bit much.” Even said after a few minutes of silent, peaceful riding. “I know it’s only a dumb one-month anniversary but… I knew you was gonna be in Italy and I couldn’t resist.”

“I love it.” Isak beamed, shifting a little closer in the boat so that their knees slotted together, cosy and domestic. “And although it is just a stupid one-month anniversary, I _did_ actually remember and I _did_ get you a present.”

Even gasped. “You got me a present?!”

“I got you a present.” Isak grinned, leaning forwards and kissing Even on the tip of the nose. “But three months still doesn’t count as an anniversary.”

“Eh, who cares?” Even shrugged, still beaming. “Time is meaningless in our line of work anyway. Three months is a lifetime when you could die any minute.”

Isak hummed. “ _Deep_.”

“ _Deep_. Good talk.” Even squeezed his thigh fondly. “Do you want to do the present giving now or later?” soft fingers brushed against the material of his trousers, and Isak smirked, resisting the urge to wrap Even up in his arms and kiss him for the rest of the night.

“Well…” he licked his lips, biting back an even wider grin. “I’ve definitely got a present that I couldn’t possibly give you here, in front of this nice Italian _Gondolier-”_

 _“-Gondolier?_ ” Even spluttered, ignoring the suggestive comment in favour of confusion. “Is that _actually_ what they’re called?”

“Your Italian is better than mine- you seriously didn’t know that?”

“I didn’t know that at all!”

“Well, congratulations. You’ve learnt something new today.” Isak laughed, brushing a stray hair back behind Even’s ear. “Let’s do the presents now, on the river, in the fucking candle-lit Gondola. The night can’t get any more cliché than this, so.”

“Okay, you first.” Even beamed and Isak rolled his eyes, before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and producing a fairly large envelope. “I can’t believe you actually got me a present. This better not be a fucking gift certificate or something.”

“It’s _not_ a gift certificate.” Isak laughed, handing the envelope over. “I think you’ll like it.”

Even turned the envelope over in his hands, raising his eyebrows, impressed as he spotted the bright red _CLASSIFIED_ stamp on the back. Isak matched his expression, silently nodding as if to say _go on then, open it_ , and, because they were stupidly in tune with each other at all times- Even understood. He opened the envelope carefully, slipping out the small dossier that laid inside, eyes lighting up excitedly as they skimmed across the label.

“Holy Shit.” He breathed. “How did you get these?”

“I’ve got friends higher up than you might think. They just made me swear on my life- and more importantly, my _salary-_ that I wouldn’t dare _let it fall_ into the wrong hands and then, easy,” he clapped. “Nothing is ever truly _100%_ classified. You just have to know the right people.”

“ _Isak_ ,” he whined. “Baby, I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you even remembered me talking about this case.”

“Are you kidding?” Isak scoffed. “You’ve only been going on about it every day for the last _month_. So here you are- the _1974 Shrikba_ case, unclassified for your eyes only. No longer a mystery. Just don’t tell anyone, or I might have to kill you.”

Even leant forwards, and brushed his nose against Isak’s fondly. “I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled, before leaning closer and dropped a chaste kiss on Isak’s lip. “Seriously.” He nodded as he pulled back. “Thank you so much. I love it. You’re so thoughtful.”

“Okay, your turn,” Isak grinned. “Although, I don’t know if you’re going to beat my level of thoughtfulness now. I think I won the anniversary.”

Even hummed, looking awfully pleased with himself as he routed around in his own jacket pocket. “I don’t know about that, baby,” he said, smirking to himself before producing a small, thin wrapped box. It was fairly small- but not square enough and far too flat to be a ring box, something which Isak noted first, and sighed in immediate relief. “Take a look.” Even raised his eyebrows, leaving the box in Isak’s open palm.

Carefully, Isak untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. At first, he was… _confused_?

He knew Even well enough by now to know just how much of a romantic, sentimental sap he was. He was half expecting a photo album filled with pictures taken of him when his keen eye couldn’t spot Even and his camera, or a handwritten memoir retelling the very moment they met and every day since. It was half the reason he’d worked so hard on his own present to Even- knowing that if such a monuments, sentimental gift was coming his way, he’d need at least a little chance of impressing Even  back.

However, his predictions were all incorrect and inside the box instead sat a silver, plain band. A nice enough bracelet- something Isak could see himself wearing often enough. He turned it over in his hands, but found no engraving, no message, no inscribed heartbeat or anything quite as cliché. He didn’t dare let the disappointment flash on his face- not when Even was staring at him with his swimming-pool blue eyes sparkling and an anticipating grin on his face. No, Isak forced himself to smile. He turned the bracelet over a few times in his hands.

“I love it.” he said.

Even _laughed_.

“Jesus, Isak, I know you’re a better spy than me but I will remind you that I’m not completely useless. You don’t have to lie-” he rolled his eyes, taking the bracelet back as Isak faced him like a stuttering, speechless fool. “-at least, not yet.” Even winked, before turning the bracelet over in his hand and tugging it open slightly. Then, from a compartment that hadn’t previously been visible, a strip of digitalised numbers slid out. Isak frowned, only confused further. The numbers weren’t from any sequence he recognised.

“It’s got a fingerprint sensor within the metal, just here,” Even rubbed his thumb against the underside of the bracelet as Isak continued to feel like a complete moron, the awful feeling that he’d _missed_ something important creeping up on him. “Only opens to you and me. nobody else.” He reached forwards and took Isak’s right hand between his own gently, before clasping the bracelet around his wrist. Unsurprisingly, it fit perfectly.

“I… I just-” Isak stuttered, shaking his head. “Sorry, Even. I feel like I’ve missed something.”

“Missed what?”

“The _numbers_ ,” Isak gave in with a sigh. “They’re cool and all but… what are they?”

At that, Even’s face lit up in a proud, albeit smug, smirk. Isak narrowed his gaze.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing,” Even grinned. “I just can’t believe you haven’t hacked into my profile and stolen my master password yet. I was sure you’d recognise it.”

“That’s your _master password_?” Isak gasped. “Even, what the _fuck-_ ”

“-it’s yours.” Even just smiled, ignoring his outburst. Gently, he pressed a feather-light kiss into the soft, thin skin of Isak’s wrist, and sparks immediately shot up his body. “It’s yours, Isak. Every scrap of intel, information, mission history, height, weight- fucking _star sign_. It’s all there. If I… if anything ever happens to me and that information needs to be gone… you have the power to do so. It’s yours. I love you Isak.”

“I… I don’t-” Isak spluttered, the unfamiliar feeling of fresh tears pricking behind his eyes. Isak hadn’t cried in a long time. Isak didn’t _cry_ \- he was a spy, hacker, assassin. He’d been bred not to cry, not to succumb to overwhelming emotions. Isak was a blank slate, in total control at all times. Isak hadn’t cried since his mother died- but here he was, hot tears slipping down his cheeks as Even held his hand in a Gondola sailing through _Venice_ on the night of their _three month anniversary_. “I don’t know what to say.” He swallowed thickly. “This is … _so much_.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Isak.” Even said, reaching up to his face to wipe a tear away. “I just wanted to show you how much I trust you. And I do love you. I’m not just saying it and you don’t have to say it back but I had to tell you. I love you, Isak.”

“Even-”

“-you don’t have to say-”

“-I love you too.” Isak blurted out. For a second, he’d considered trying to hold it in, keeping the advantage for maybe even just a few seconds longer, but the thought was obsolete. Some truths just couldn’t wait to be spoken. “Of course I love you, idiot. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“ _Shit_ , thank god.” Even laughed, slamming a hand against his own chest and patting a few times. “I mean… I wasn’t going to say anything because you looked ready to puke and all, but I would’ve been _really_ fucking heartbroken if you didn’t say it back.”

Isak laughed, and finally, the tears stopped welling in the corners of his eyes. He looked at Even and he laughed at this- at them- the absurdity of the whole situation.

“You’re a dork.” He mumbled fondly, wiping at his damp cheeks. Even grinned, and pressed a light kiss against his lips.

“Love you.” He mumbled. Isak smiled, and kissed him again.

“Love you too, baby.”

“ _What_?” Even gasped sarcastically, throwing himself backwards. “Don’t call me that.” He grinned. “The people monitoring our every move might get the wrong idea, right?”

Isak laughed again, shaking his head in amusement. “Wow,” he sighed, taking Even’s hand between his own and squeezing tightly. “You’re the worst. I can’t believe I fell in love with you. You’re _unbearable_.”

Even just winked. “I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop a comment with anything from this verse you might like to see!!!


	4. Stand-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his three month stint undercover in Columbia, Even gets the chance to meet Isak's best friend.

**Stand-Off**

 

 

“-and don’t mention anything about Vancouver 2012. And _don’t_ ask him anything about his parents. and don’t think for a second he won’t flip out if you make some stupid joke about-”

“-his kick-ass eyebrows, yes, I know.” Even laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Baby, I’m a big boy and also a seasoned spy trained in subtlety. I think I can handle meeting your best friend without getting punched in the face. And even if I _do_ get punched in the face, it’ll be fine.” He held Isak’s face between his two hands and squished it, earning himself a glare. “It’s a strong face. I can take a punch and still look pretty for you.”

“I’m serious.” Isak pouted, turning his head to the side as Even tried to kiss him, instead catching the side of his face. “Jonas is my oldest friend and my partner. We’ve been through some shit together. Takeovers, take-outs, stake-outs… the _whole_ nine yards. Jonas knew me when I was fourteen and scrawny and still in the closet. I couldn’t throw a punch to save my life and he defended me every day in school- and earned himself a few scars doing so. He’s also just come back from three months undercover in Columbia, and he hates racial stereotypes, so he’s probably going to be crabby as fuck-”

“Isak.” Even huffed, still smiling as he forced Isak to face him. “I understand. If anything, Jonas and I will get on like a house on fire. We have a pretty big thing in common.”

“What’s that?” Isak asked with a frown. Even dropped a quiet kiss on his forehead.

“We both love you.” He said- and instead of giving Isak a chance to reply (likely with a scoff and a bitchy eyeroll that he for some reason found _stupidly_ attractive) he just held his hand up to his forehead in a cheeky mock-salute and backed out of the room, leaving a distantly amused Isak leaning against his desk, trying his best to keep a lid on the big fat fond smile that painted his face.

Since they’d been together, Even had heard plenty _about_ Jonas. He and Isak seemed more like brothers than best friends, and Even could appreciate that even if he’d never experienced something quite so dynamic himself. There was a sort of bond that came about between two people when they worked together intimately like that. Even shared something similar with Mikael and Elias and some of the other boys he’d trained with before joining _bakka_ , but it seemed that Isak and Jonas had always rolled with a brothers-in-arms, die-for-each-other vibe that was hard to contest with any other relationship.

So yeah, Even was kind of nervous. But Even was also a spy, so he took a breath before putting on his biggest, fakest smile and tucked a hand casually into the pocket of his trousers before strolling into the free meeting room they’d reserved specifically for this (Isak wanted it to be somewhere impartial, where neither of them could get away with pulling a gun or worse) where he found Jonas was already waiting for him.

His skin was tanned- not just tanned in the sense he’d been to Columbia for three months but actually glowing and _golden,_ probably due to his obviously Hispanic heritage. His eyes were dark- like Mikael’s but less soft and friendly, a wild head of black curls sat askew on top and his eyebrows, _well_ \- there was a reason Isak had told him not to joke about them. They were fucking magnificent. Thick and proud and practically _bristling_ as he stared Even out from across the room. Even wanted to make a comment so badly, but Jonas really didn’t look in the joking mood. Three months undercover in Columbia could probably do that to a guy.

“So I’m Even, as you’ve probably guessed.” He decided to make the first move by extending a hand, at least a little awkwardly and after a few silent moments of tense consideration, Jonas took it. Even relaxed a little. At least the hard part was over. “Good to meet you, finally. Isak talks about you all the time.”

“Good to know.” Jonas nodded, jaw clenched. He was sat behind the room’s lone interrogation desk, foot tapping against the floor. Even was standing up, but there was something about Jonas that swallowed the whole room, made him feel sweaty at the nape of his neck, _nervous_. Even didn’t _get_ nervous. Jonas wasn’t obviously armed in anyway, but that wasn’t reason enough to feel safe. Despite Isak’s threat of no sex for three weeks, he’d brought a very small gun just in case. It was currently strapped to his ankle. Jonas’ eyes had darted downward and noticed it the moment he walked in.

“You… don’t trust me.” Even said. It was easier to acknowledge the elephant in the room than roll around in the awkwardness for a second longer. Jonas raised his perfect, giant eyebrows and had the gall to at least look a little surprised at his forwardness. However, the pensive, flat frown returned just as fast, and he pressed his hands together tightly.

“Of course I don’t trust you.” He said. “You’re a spy.”

“Fair play.” Even nodded, rocking back on his heels slightly. “I mean, I am a spy. I lie for a living. But… Isak really wants us to get along. I get that you don’t trust me and that’s fine but… you gotta believe me when I say I do love him, and I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

“That’s good to hear. It is… actually good to meet you. I haven’t spoke to Isak much since being undercover but since I’ve been back, you’re all he seems to want to talk about.” Jonas rolled his eyes, and Even beamed with unabashed pride. He pulled the second, metal framed chair out from underneath the desk and swivelled it, sitting with his front pressed to the chairs back and his legs spread on either side, leaning forwards with his chin on his folded forearms.

“So, you and Isak.” He smiled, thankful for at least the slight lightness that settled over the dark tension. “What’s the story there? Is there like… another super-secret spy school nobody else knows about? Because you’re both trained… _impeccably,_ may I say. I’ve seen some of your stuff. You’re way too good to just be recent recruits, you know?”

“There’s no second super-secret spy school.” Jonas huffed a laugh. “You’ve got _Etterretningstjenesten,_ which is basically a play camp for rich spy-kids like you. Then you’ve got _Delt_.”

“ _Delt_?” Even frowned. “What the fuck is _Delt_?”

“If you don’t know Delt, you probably don’t have the classification level, but I figured Isak will tell you soon enough anyway.” Jonas rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t really like to talk about it much but…” he trailed off with a distant sigh, looking off to the side of the room before pulling back to meet Even’s eyes, a little pained. “Back in the early two-thousands there was this… government program. They basically took in a bunch of kids with nowhere to go from all over the world and threw us into a training program. Like a school, I guess but… instead of lockers and playgrounds we had guns and mandarin lessons.”

“Sounds a lot like _Etterretningstjenesten_.” Even huffed, sitting up a little straighter and folding his arms. He _was_ taken aback, but he couldn’t let Jonas see that. Isak never talked about his past. Even has always feared it was quite unsavoury.

Jonas scoffed and thankfully, didn’t seem to notice Isak’s internal turmoil . “Sure it does, on the surface. But there’s a key difference between the two. _Etterretningstjenesten_ is a school for _spies_.”

“Right?” Even leant forwards, arching an eyebrow. “So?”

“ _Delt_ is not a school for spies Even,” Jonas laughed, but it was harsh and bitter and afterwards, his lip curled into a snarl. “It’s a school for _assassins_ , Even.”

“Oh.” Even whispered, heart hammering behind his chest. “I… _fuck_. Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jonas huffed a laugh. “ _Oh_. That’s what most people say when they hear, don’t sweat it. It’s cool, we’re mostly over the years of childhood trauma. Most graduates slip into covert operations pretty easily, others end up in professions a little more… _unsavoury_. Me and Isak did okay. We looked out for each other, right?”

“Right.” Even nodded, but the lump in his throat only tightened. “Still… that’s _shitty_. I’m sorry that happened to you and- _faen_ , to Isak. He never… I’ve asked him about his training and stuff but he just clams up. He says he doesn’t like talking about it. I guess now I get why.”

“You care about him?” Jonas asked. Even didn’t hesitate for a second, nodding his head.

Jonas was silent for almost a full minute. A full minute of Even awkwardly looking anywhere but Jonas’ piercing gaze and swallowing thickly. Then, eventually, he leant back in his chair slightly and let out a long, slow sigh.

“Look.” He said. “I can see that… you’re genuine. Isak doesn’t _do_ relationships so… unless this was all an elaborate set-up to take a hit on your or something-” he paused for a second or so too long, and Even was sure his heart rate spiked almost dangerously. “-clearly he likes you a lot. Loves you, even. Whatever. If he’s happy, I’m happy for him. It doesn’t mean I trust you or like you or that we’re going to be best friends… but I won’t give you a hard time.” He rose from his seat, approaching Even slowly before outstretching a hand. Even hesitated for a second, before deciding he didn’t really have anything to lose, and accepted the handshake.

Jonas twisted his arm so fast and violently, Even was winded as he stumbled, face pressed against the cool concrete floor with Jonas straddling his back, hardly breaking sweat. For a guy at least five or so inches shorter than him, the kid was pretty fucking strong and twice as quick.

“-but if you _do_ hurt him, in _any way_.” Jonas hissed against his ear as Even tried and failed to struggle against his death cold grip. “I _will_ kill you. I don’t give a fuck that our agencies are merged or whatever. I will kill you in cold blood. I won’t even fucking blink, Even.”

“Noted.” Even grimaced, tapping out against the floor with his free hand. “ _Faen_ , I said noted, let go!”

“Fine.” Jonas huffed, but complied, climbing off him and stepping back, adjusting his jean jacket as if it would crease. Even’s Armarni suit probably wouldn’t fare so well, and he groaned as he dragged himself back up to a standing position, stretching out his arm, hearing a slight click as he rotated his wrist. Nothing was broken, but there was definitely a dull ache in his forearm that he really didn’t want Isak to start asking questions about later. Hopefully it wasn’t sprained.

“You’re pretty good at that.” He huffed a laugh, adjusting his cufflinks and turning around to face Jonas again, still smiling. “Hurt Isak and I die,” he nodded. “Right, got it.”

Jonas narrowed his gaze. “You don’t seem taken aback by any of this?” he noted, raising an eyebrow. Even smiled and shrugged his shoulders, before crouching down to slip the gun out of his ankle holster. He didn’t pick it up however, Jonas’ eyes fixated on him the entire time. Even kicked the gun across the room, sliding it over to Jonas’ side of the room.

“You’re an assassin, right?” he smirked. “What else would I expect?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leaving kudos or a comment means the world to me, so thank u in advance if you're planning on that"
> 
> Also- i know this is just one chapter, but i have a few ideas for a possible continuation of this fic? It wouldn't be like a multi-chaptered drawn out story, more of a collection of isolated one-shot type chapters? (similiar to my post series four fic, paint me a picture with your true colours). So yeah- if anyone would be interested in seeing more of what this universe has to offer, let me know?!
> 
> (and if you're still unsure, here's a hint of some ideas: Isak's past, Jonas/Isak friendship, girl!squad boy!squad spies, Evak (obviously) Jonas/Mikael (maybe?), angstttttttt galore, missions, anniversary celebrations and much more!)


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